Imagine for a moment, Your at a cozy quiet camp site, Deep in the Aussie bushland, Upon a damp, densely foggy morn…
Where the crisp morning air is what fills your lungs, As you venture out of your cozy warm swag into the fog, Taking a moment to revive the campfires coals, 'Fore finding a spot to sit upon a sturdy bark free log…
The fire soon enough starts warming the air in reach, And provides the heat needed for your morning warm beverage of choice, As you sip slowly birdsong breaks through the bush lands silence, ‘Tis nothing short of seraphic to hear their orchestral voice.
Then as the performance seems to reach near its peak, A rouge ray of sunshine breaks through the fog, Warming your soul from where it first touches, As cell by cell it starts dissolving any remaining dull monologue.
Effervescent style this warmth from the sun’s first rays, Ripples throughout your being then outward, Slowly driving back the surrounding fog cover, ‘Till there’s no chance of it returning today ‘till night-covers bombard…
Thus in the soul healing warmth of the early morn’s sun, One sits sipping seraphically one’s warm beverage, Absorbing the bliss of one’s bushland surrounds, Knowing for this day ‘tis now an abundance of bliss that has leverage…
Imagine a moment; You’re in the darkness of the earths crust, A seed - knowing of no light, Blissfully ignorant of what shall be in store, When one breaks through the ground with all one’s might…
Thus enjoy this moment in the comforting darkness, Drawing in energy from the soil like we do breath, ‘Till it feels as if one could overflow or burst, Yet take another ‘breath’ despite little capacity left.
Then the tip of a shoot breaks through one’s shell into the warm dirt, Slowly making it’s way ~ venturing forth towards the cooler air, Whilst another is soon making its way towards earths core, Though which direction ’tis going… a seed may actually be unaware.
Yet still it continues growing it’s way through the ground, Root tips weaving their way deeper into the earth, All the while being fueled by the abundant energy of the surrounding soil, That strengthens the deeper its connection becomes to nearth…
Imagine in this moment; you’re standing in the outback, With it’s iconic red sandy dirt beneath your feet, ‘Tis a warm dry afternoon in the springtime, And thus the scent of flowers is upon a light breeze, tangy ‘n’ sweet…
As you listen to the breeze dance amongst the gum leaves, Its ocean like melody lulls you into its sway, Into a more seraphic style of perspective, Allowing the breeze to for now blow all your troubles away….
Thus you’ve new space to taste the tangy scents upon the breeze, Which vary depending on the surrounding flora, Filling ones lungs slowly with abundant replenishment, Creating space to adjust for what lies soon in store!
As the wind dies down and the leaves calm, One listens to the birdsong tune that surrounds, ‘Tis so seraphic a picturesque scene one experiences here, With blue grey trees sheltering wildlife, Tall dried grasses, colourful birds, And the red dirt that abounds…
And then from seemingly nowhere the sand moves over ‘n’ around your feet, Moving whisplike a bit for a moment enchanting your attention, ‘Fore it starts swirling around at your ankles, Triggering an experience that takes a bit of comprehension…
Slowly this spiral increases in it’s velocity, ‘Tis not uncomfortable but the sandy element gritty, Growing its speed and height to one’s knees, Picking up, blowing away, and adjusting all that it please…
Soon one discovers they’re hip deep in a whirlpool, Consisting mostly of dust that sparkles in sunlight and wind just a touch cool, As your legs take on a new sensation before now unknown, ‘Fore further into this whirlwind one ‘tis ‘bout to be thrown.
Wind now begins to whip veraciously around your abdomen, Inching in height with each slow breath you take, The sensations across ones back remind one of that, Which an experienced masseuse may create…
Reaching chest height it soon creates an interesting illusion, Of treading water on a secluded private beach, Sensations of being sucked down within the whirlwind, Are not so overly far from ones imaginations reach…
Though reality ’tis completely the opposite, One is standing securely upon ones feet, The earth below supporting ones every move, In a way no being has the ability to ever beat.
Yet the whirlwind continues above ones shoulder height, Around one’s throat ~ creating an interesting insight, Sensations at every point neglected are now trying to fight, To gain your attention for going unnoticed to fester be their plight…
One’s line of sight fast becomes a blur of orange/red sparkle, Enlightening one to contemplate this moment’s debacle, Weightlessness brings it’s own variation of calming element particle, Whilst the whirlwind invigorates your every hairs follicle…
The whirlwind now swirls around one’s entire being, To thick to see through to anything on the other side, Bringing thoughts of unknown consequences to one’s mind, ‘Fore one truly has no idea the outcome to result from this ride…
Until the wind drops as through it never began, All around one’s position seems as it was before, Was the whirlwind just an illusion of some creators divine plan? Or something greater one need further explore?
When not a leaf is moving, And the day is sticky and thick, The heat's so dense it’s hard to breathe, As one contemplates lazing round near in the nick…
No bird is stirring though the midst of the day, ’Tis too dry and hot even for them, The flys though are out in force to drive most mad, However ’tis not a horror story from which this stems…
’Tis but a normal late spring/summers day in the outback, The sort of midday that blisters and burns, Australia into being the Sunburnt Country, When it's beaches and wintertime for which one yearns.
Thus when not a moment too late a glimpse of a breeze, Bring’s a micro glimmer of reliefs hope to all, One revels in it’s gentle kiss guiding the gum leaves to dance, From ground to tip it illusions a slight sway to the call.
Though soon the breeze light strengthens boldly, Lifting the top layer of dust in it’s path, As it strengthens to blow a rage through the bush, Leaving near no debris in it’s aftermath…
And yet as it roars through the scrub, One can’t help but notice how much it sounds like the ocean, Rising and crashing like waves on beach rocks, Although it be leaves here in motion.
Venturing along a dusty bush track, Wind messing with your hair, Dust flies where rubber or hoof meet ground, There’s very few things to this compare.
Be it your choice of ute style, horse, or bike, The blue grey bush land blurs on by, As one becomes as one with their chosen ‘beast’, Beneath an aquamarine shade of sky.
Winding tracks vs long dirt roads, Dirt mound jumps ‘n’ obstacles to master, Canine friends running loyally along beside, May few be the unexpected hole or branch disaster.
For riding through the Aussie bush, Can bring a clearing of one’s mind, A freeing feeling that blows away debris, That can constrict us to a negative energetic bind.
And even if the red dust tracks one rides, Are ones you’ve ridden many a time before, Each time is still filled with that same sense of adventure, Of wonderment of what this time may have in store!
Boots on ‘n’ out the door, For ‘tis winter outback once more! The safest season to head into the Aussie bush, To go camping, play and explore!
Post planning, supplies packed, checkin’s organised, Venturing through the bushland can be an adventure to open eyes, For autumn rains and cooler weather trigger winter’s abundance, Though sans knowledge or local guidance the bush can be a fool’s demise…
Yet when one’s off upon a bushwalk on a clear, cool afternoon, One can revel in wonders to be found all around, From wildlife equally enjoying the crisp winter air, To the rainbow of parrots, wrens and finches singing sweetly their own sound.
There’s fuzzy rain created moss covering’s beneath many a tree, Tall seed headed grasses wave upon the gentle breeze, Many are gum loaded with buds soon to flower, The energy of the bushland’s generally one to empower;
Then comes the element of discovering that which came before, With Animal tracks, that long forgotten now overgrown and near ancient trees galore, Thus exploring in the amazing Australian bushland is far from ever a bore, For one can never know exactly what each bushwalk has in store!
As the sun’s light seeps into the outback, The bushland’s as still as can be, For the nocturnal creatures have gone to bed, And the daytime array are just now waking to see…
Thus there’s a stillness in the dawn time, Where only those from dusk chirp and whir, For even the earliest bird’s still in their nest, Though Morning activities are starting to stir…
As a ray of sunshine finally finds its way, As does the first birds sweet chirpy song, Animals awaken with the warming light, With this day anew yet to have a wrong.
Soon starts the chorus of magpie’s warble, Unmistakable amongst the melodious array of a birdlife orchestra, Whilst emu’s bass is only heard by those nearby, And cockatoo’s shriek ‘tis much like a rookie fiddlers beta.
Before too long the dawn blends into morning, The birdlife settles into their day’s mundane, The dew drops dried and reptiles warmed, The sunkissed outback life ‘tis one uniquely within its own seraphic lane.
The Blue sky greys above the tree tops, Shades off black and daunting, The pre-rain aroma ‘tis yet to fill the air, With Gidgee’s wreak ever so revolting.
The box trees leaves soon change their hue, To a green contrasting boldly the darkness of the sky, Stillness when paired with warmer humidity, Join Mother Nature’s warning a storm is nigh.
Creatures of all kinds seek their favourite spots, With a style near of electrifying grace and haste, ‘Till thunder starts to grumble through the air, All knowing there’s soon a storm to face.
Though a summer storm brings welcomed rain, They’re polar contrasts to winter’s style so peaceful, They possess effects challenging enough to be a pain, Including chain lightning, flooding and destruction creating situations for all eventful.
For when hail and droplets heavy hide the bushland that surrounds, One knows there’ll be nothing but mud for days upon the ground, Yet once it does dry the outback blooms now with replenishment abounds, Attracting birdlife and creatures moved along from where ‘tis still dry, Thus filling fresh rinsed air with all their grateful sweet sounds!
After a blistering outback summer near unbearable, The likes of Gidgee take their turn to bloom, Whilst animals and people all around enjoy the reprive, And campfires are planned beneath the April moon.
For soon shall be the time for camping trips, Bush Adventures and the like galore, As the Australian Outback comes back to life, When most of the reptiles take their turn to snore!
Gardeners and farmers sow the winters seeds, And pray their efforts bring forth that intended rather than abundant weeds, Native mammals take their turn to be more active, Whilst the colours of an autumnal outback have their moment to believe.
Thus from Gumtrees cooler shades of grey blue, To Gidgee’s bumble bee blossoms blooming on cue, Contrasting the dirt to seem a shade redder in hue, Though seraphically beautiful ‘tis parallel to springtimes slew.
The more gentle rains bring green grasses back, Bird life’s change from summer predators to winter finches seems near a hack, As new surprises have a tendency to never lack, For ‘tis that fun part of the year commencing when Australia cools its way into an Autumnal Outback!
As the butterfly’s flutter amongst the flowers, Upon a cool late summer morn, A Kingfisher or three come to visit our garden, Bringing many to their window to fawn.
For these quiet pocket sized hunters, Are quite a sight to behold, For though they could hide in a coffee cup, They perch in clear sight bright and bold.
With sapphire plumage highlighted with yellow, A white collar and breast to match, A clear shot of one with a good camera, ‘Tis something of a rather rare catch.
For they tend to be always diligent, Ready to be come and gone in a moment, Not wary but mindful of the cat, For they don’t find him a worthy opponent.
Though ‘tis their spear like beak and speed, That they deem to be their prized assets great, Despite their unmissable characteristics, They rarely slip to fate.
For when the Kingfisher’s come to call, ‘Tis a delight to one and all, Unless you happen to be their prey, They tend to leave one in a happier day.
The Poetic Life 2.0 